


Millionaire Matchmaker: Death Note Edition

by Vulpes_Vulpes



Category: Death Note, Millionaire Matchmaker - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Gold Diggers Abound, Light's POV Is Super Entertaining To Write, M/M, Matchmaking, POV Multiple, Rating May Change, The Author Regrets Nothing, They're all probably OOC but I tried
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4741754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpes_Vulpes/pseuds/Vulpes_Vulpes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Misa thinks that Patti Stanger is a viable solution to L's trouble with love, Light is a sexy beast who can charm the pants off of anyone, Matt is a gold digger, Mello has ulterior motives, and Near's milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. Also featuring inappropriate pop culture references and uses of the word 'bimbo'. </p><p>Although this is going to seem like just an L/Light story, there will actually be quite a lot of Matt/Mello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Martyr for the Cause

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister is icaughtkira on ff.net, who wrote the Mortal Instruments Next Top Model. Sometimes we read it together and it's weird for everyone because she barely remembers writing it and we quote it and she's like, wait, that was ME who came up with that. Anyway, that being said, I have long said that I would write a Millionaire Matchmaker AU because trashy reality TV with psychotic female hosts is like my own personal brand of heroin. 
> 
> This one's for you, sis, whether you wanted it or not because you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
> 
> Disclaimer: People never write disclaimers anymore but I'm feeling a bit nostalgic so here goes: I do not own Millionaire Matchmaker, Death Note, or any of the characters. I DO own Patti Stanger though, and will be collecting a ransom for her return.  
> 

            "You need an intervention." Misa stated seriously. You could tell she was serious because she had her super-serious face on, which was a carefully calculated combination of eyes opened as widely as possible and a quivering, pouty lower lip. 

 

"An intervention? It seems Misa has learned a new word today. I am very proud." L replied, genuinely seeming proud. He wasn't proud, actually. He just knew that Misa could be easily derailed with praise.

 

Misa, curse her, was insulted rather than pleased. Evidently she's sharper than she appears. "I know what an intervention is, you meanie! I saw it on How I Met Your Mother! There was that one episode where everyone kept staging interventions for everyone else, and they all thought it was getting out of hand but I just thought, wow, what great friends who would do that for one another! Intervening with other people's problems is what Misa does best!"

 

"Was there a point to all of that?" L said dully.

 

"The point is that Misa thinks L needs to spice up his love life. When was the last time L went on a date?"

 

"Misa, before I answer your intrusive and frankly, highly personal question, I think you should know that your use of the third person has gotten a little too excessive, and honestly rather frightening."

 

"I actually only referred to myself as 'Misa' once in my entire speech." Good god, she's become self-aware.

 

"Twice, actually." It was true.

 

 "Uh uh, you are avoiding the issue," she tutted at him, shaking her head sadly. "But, since I am such a good friend, I've decided to help you find a date."

 

"Misa, you aren't my friend, you're my secretary. There's a distinct difference."

 

"Once again, L continues to miss the point."

 

"Once again, Misa continues to use the third person inappropriately."

           

"Eughh!" She veritably snarled at him. “All I’m saying is, you really need to put yourself out there! You need a little romance in your life.”

 

“No, I can’t take the time off from work.” He replied placidly.

 

L knew he had pushed Misa to her limit. Thank Jesus, he thought, as she huffed angrily and slapped a manila folder on his desk before storming theatrically out of his office. She could only handle so much evasion before inevitably giving up. She would be back though, he knew, as soon as she renewed her resolve to meddle in his personal life.

 

Idly, he flipped open the folder she had left him and glanced at its contents. It contained a dvd in a thin plastic shell, and a few papers describing some weird reality television show. Confused, he read on until he came across the name of the program. He froze, and stared blankly at the file in front of him. Maybe the force of his black-eyed stare would cause the papers to spontaneously combust.

 

Sadly, it didn't. But, never being the type of person who was easily deterred, he continued his staring contest with the folder. He was going to kill Misa.

 

.........

 

 

Patti was having a bad day. Those bastards over at the network had the nerve to question the diversity of her clients, who were all white straight men. What the hell did they expect? Her show was called Millionaire Matchmaker for god's sake. Where the fuck was she supposed to find minorities among millionaires? This was corporate America, damnit.

 

To top it all off, she had to call her agent to deal with some media scandal about her being homophobic because she had said that the gays couldn't keep it in their pants or something equally true.

 

 _Homophobic my ass_ , she thought to herself, tapping her shiny, perfectly manicured nails on the glass tabletop of her desk. How could those internet brats turn on her like that? She was the first reality show to openly support those gays. She practically invented homosexuality. It didn't even exist until depicted on her show. Forget Glee. She catered to the gays before it was cool, unlike that twit Ryan Murphy.

 

"Watari! We need to find a young, hot, gay millionaire for the next episode. What do we have in terms of video submissions?" In spite of the disgusting start to her day, Patti soldiered on. Someone needed to match up those desperate rich men with suitable gold diggers. It was her calling in life, and nothing would stop her from fulfilling her glorious purpose.

           

Her assistant began rapidly typing at his laptop, his expression placid and calm as always.

 

"We received one video in the past month that meets your criteria. It was sent to our studio from an address in Japan, however."

          

"Perfect. Americans love Japanese crap. Pull it up on screen and get the team in here."

           

"Right away."

           

"And Watari?"

           

"Yes, Patti?"

           

"The mustache is really looking good. You really could work the whole 'hot grandpa' angle."

 

"Thank you, Patti." Watari's face twitched slightly. It was hard to tell whether he appreciated the compliment or not.

           

The rest of Patti's matchmaking team marched into the room, like the loyal followers they were. Her cronies consisted of a dweeby looking guy and a blonde woman in strange vintage glasses. Half of the time Patti forgot what their names were, but their names didn't matter anyway. They were just there to be less attractive than her and to agree with everything she said.

 

Once everyone was seated Watari queued the video, and they all stared as a large calligraphied 'L' appeared on the projector screen. A garbled electronic voiceover began, the screen unchanging.

 

" _Hello. I am L. I am a world famous detective. I'm pretty attractive, I guess, in a slouchy detective-y way. I spend all my free time eating sweets and being mean to my amazing, beautiful, and intelligent secretary, Misa Amane. Miss Amane is an aspiring actress and model and would love love looove to meet you Patti, Misa is a huge fan, really._

_But enough about me...sa. Um, I'm not really sure which way I swing? I mean, I think L likes boys and I'm not usually wrong about these kinds of things but you can never tell, can you? Anyway, I would be so happy if you could come to Japan and find me a hot date, because I'm a millionaire, and I certainly need matchmaker!_

_Call the phone number I sent you if you are interested_."

 

The screen fuzzed out, and the massive black L was replaced by noisy static.

           

"Well that was fricking weird," the blonde one with glasses said in a nasally tone, looking over at Patti. "This guy must be really fugly if he can't even show his face. Plus he seems like he has a split personality or something."

 

"True love isn't about looks." Patti admonished, even though she was actually thinking the same thing.

 

Everyone declined to mention the fact that to Patti, true love actually _was_ about looks, considering she screened all of the candidates for her millionaires' dates based solely on appearance.

 

"This guy clearly needs help. And I think we are the team for the job," Patti unfolded her eyeglasses and put them on for dramatic effect. "If we can set up that weird Ozzy Osborne lookalike with some hot twink, we can certainly sell a mysterious Japanese detective. We just need to find someone outgoing enough to bring him out of his shell."

 

The cronies, as well as Watari, took note of the glasses on Patti's face. They only came on during situations of utmost seriousness.

 

"I totally agree," the dorky man piped in. "If anyone can do it, Patti can."

 

She preened at the praise. "Damn straight. Now let's call this loser up."

 

 

...........

 

 

 

"Why aren't you happy about this? I thought that L would be thrilled about being on T.V. and getting to meet all sorts of cute boys," Misa whined, pouting.

 

"Misa, the fact that you genuinely can't comprehend why I would be upset about this only affirms my long held notion that I never should have hired you."

 

"Maybe you're not happy about this right now, but I just know that you'll thank me later!" She brightened noticeably.

 

"I believe the odds of that are less than two percent, Misa." L sighed, just barely resisting the urge to smack his head repeatedly on his desk.

 

"Well, L," the blonde scolded, "your odds of getting _laid_ anytime soon were less than two percent, and are now significantly higher."

           

The only thing L hated more than Misa being stupid and illogical was Misa being smart and logical. Which was happening more and more often lately.

"Despite that, I feel I should remind you that as my employee, interfering with my personal life is highly unprofessional and a bad career move."  

 

Misa only smiled sweetly and said, "Oh L, you know you could never survive without Misa." Her smile widened to the point that L was slightly afraid. "Besides, I know your full name, address, birthday, and bank information. So you really shouldn't think too much about firing Misa, or refusing to accept the help that Misa has so generously given you."

 

"Ah, yes, how right you are, Misa. Silly of me to have forgotten." He thought it best to placate her, given that she was probably the type of person who could easily become a mass murderer under the right circumstances. He didn't dare comment on her questionable grammar choices at that moment, either.

 

That response seemed to satisfy her, and she once again became the bubbly and child-like secretary that L knew and despised. At the sound of the phone ringing, she flounced over and snatched it up before L had the chance to answer it.

 

"Hellooo! This is L's office, what can I do for you?" She chirped in English. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked to L. "It's Patti," she mouthed silently at him, widening her eyes dramatically.

 

Deciding it was extremely dangerous to allow Misa to converse with the woman who was supposed to find him the love of his life, L swiftly plucked the phone from Misa's grasp, ignoring her indignant cry.

 

"Yes, hello. This is L," he said quickly, while shoving his whiney secretary away with one foot. Misa only gave him a silent thumbs up and exited his office, closing the door behind her. He was surprised she didn't cackle evilly as well, but he supposed she had already shone her evil side once to him today, so the daily requirement had been met.

 

"L, this is Patti."

           

"Yes, I know," he replied warily.

 

"I have to say, your video was one of the most...unique that we've ever received. I figured, this is a guy who needs love. This is a guy who is sensitive, and maybe a little shy, who needs someone to bring out the best in him. You put all these walls up to keep people out, but I'm going to find you the perfect person to tear them down. Why did you build those walls, L? Who hurt you?"

 

"Ah, my secretary made that video. That's why the voice was altered. She loves your show, you see, and I'm the only millionaire she knows, so I suppose she was only using me as an excuse to contact you."

 

From the other end of the line Patti whispered, "Jeez, the guy won't even admit he sent us the video. This is just sad." L heard someone else make a noise of agreement, and he quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

           

Patti raised her voice and addressed L once again. "If you say so," she said doubtfully. "You know what I think? I think you need to man up. You're so emotionally guarded, which is why you have trouble finding dates. The first step is admitting you need help. But don't worry, you're in capable hands."

 

L figured the best course of action was to just agree with her. "You're right. I have total faith in you, Patti."

 

"Damn right you should. ‘Love' is my middle name." So she was susceptible to flattery. L made a mental note of that fact. "So don't you worry. I will find you the hottest single guys that Japan has to offer. You're gay, right?"

 

"I hadn't really put much thought into it---"

           

Patti quickly interrupted him. "What kind of guys do you like?"

 

"Well, intelligence is certainly important. As is good moral character." He could almost hear her eye roll over the phone.

 

"Sure it is. Well, L---hey that rhymes you know--I am going to find you the sexiest, smartest, most moral little twinks you could ever dream of. That reminds me, are you a top or a bottom?"

 

"Um---"

           

"You know what, it doesn't matter. Variety is the spice of life, and I always encourage my clients to try new things sexually."  L didn't get the chance to respond before she steamrolled on, "But before we begin the process of finding your soul mate, just remember: no sex before monogamy. I know how you gays can be, whether you're from Japan or not."

 

"That won't be an issue," he managed.

 

"Fabulous," she said, sounding bored of him already. "I'll contact you when my team and I reach Japan, and we'll start the process of interviewing your potential matches. You're not allowed to be there, obviously, because you clearly have already failed at finding love for yourself, and I know what's good for you even if you don't."

 

L seriously doubted that, but he didn't argue.

 

"Anyway, toodles, L. I have a lot of work to do. You should work on reflecting why you're so withdrawn. You can't hope to love someone else if you can't love yourself." With that, Patti promptly hung up the phone, leaving L slightly stunned and very insulted. He briefly considered making the travel arrangements for the American woman, but eventually decided against it. He'd let Misa take care of it. She was, after all, the one who contacted that nutcase in the first place.


	2. The Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The matchmaker actually does her job. The only question is, who's the real matchmaker here?

This was an occasion for her work glasses. Patti pushed them down the bridge of her nose, and peered at the line of men in front of her. God, these Japanese bitches all looked like such wet sandwiches. She turned to Watari on her left.

 

"You know what I've noticed, Watari? These eastern guys are so much more _real_ than the beach babes I'm used to." She said it like it was a bad thing. "Look at them. Not a single boob job among them. Where are the spray tans? Where are the false lashes?" She waved her arms around madly, and glared at Watari over her glasses. He stared back at her for a minute, before realizing that those weren't rhetorical questions, and the matchmaker genuinely wanted an answer.

 

"Well, they are all males, Ms. Stanger, so breast implants might be rather startling," he allowed.

 

"That's not the fucking point, Watari!" She was in full bitch mode now. "L needs someone interesting to balance out his completely bland and uninteresting personality."

 

"Maybe you should begin with the interviews before you dismiss them all as uninteresting." Watari said gently.

           

Patti only restacked the papers in front of her passive aggressively, her face totally disgusted. "Fine. But you're going to need to step up your scouting, Watari."

 

"Noted."

 

"Let's start with that albino kid. He looks promising," she hedged.

           

The young man in question shuffled forward to stand in front of the desk.

 

"So, your name is...Nate River?" Patti stared at him with open hostility.

 

"I am Near," he said in response.

           

"Yeah, I can see that, sweetie."

 

"No, I am _Near,_ " he emphasized.

 

"Ooookay well in a minute I'll throw you out of here and then you will be _far_ unless you say something interesting in the next five seconds."

 

"I work for the FBI and I like toys," he stated simply, within the allotted five seconds.

           

Patti was clearly impressed. "FBI, huh? That would be perfect for L," she said the Crony # 1 on her right. "They could do reconnaissance together." No one really knew what Near meant by liking 'toys' or what Patti meant by 'doing reconnaissance', but no one said anything for fear of looking like a moron. The cronies simply nodded profusely in agreement.

 

"So, Nate, tell me more about yourself. What's your biggest fear?" She looked like she didn't give a damn about his answer, but she had to make this interview process seem like it was legitimately about finding someone L would like, rather than just sorting out the hottest people.

 

"My biggest fear is that I'll be walking somewhere dark and accidentally step on a toad," he deadpanned.

 

She stared at him for a minute. "That's really gross."

           

He just stared back at her, figuring it was best not elaborate.

 

Evidently Patti had decided that was enough questioning, because she said, "Alright, Frosty, you've got a pretty interesting look, but your clothes are seriously depressing. I'm dying inside just looking at you. Wear something a little sexier to the mixer. You look like you rolled out of bed three seconds ago. And not in a good way."

 

Near only shrugged one shoulder and exited the room.

 

"Next!" She barked. She really needed a stiff drink. Watari stroked his mustache sympathetically.

 

The next person to approach the desk was marginally interesting, Patti had to admit. "Mihael Keehl?"

 

"That's me," he said.

 

She looked critically at him. "You've got some sex appeal, but _damn_ you're flat chested. I will never understand the appeal. Men like curves. The sooner women get that through their stubborn skulls, the sooner I'll be able to retire," she huffed indignantly.

 

"Excuse you? I am a man."

 

Watari only sighed.

 

"You are?" She squinted at him, taking her glasses off so that she could actually see. "Well then get a haircut. That dye job is just tacky, and that's coming from me."

 

"My hair is not bleached, you bitch," he growled.

 

"It takes one to know one, you bimbo." She retorted smugly. “At least I'm not the one dressed in skintight leather, now am I?" Her cronies smirked at him.

 

"That's because you know you couldn't pull it off." Owned.

           

She glared in response. "Whatever. I'm letting you through to the mixer, but you better wear something with a little more class."

 

"You mean I'd better wear something that won't give you an inferiority complex? I'll be sure to forget to remember to do that." He smiled smarmily at the cronies. They looked suitably intimidated.

 

Watari sighed again. "Would the next person step up please?" he said tiredly. Patti was too busy combusting to say anything.

 

.........

 

By the end of the day, Patti was getting much less picky about her matches. "Name?"

           

"Mail Jeevas. But you can call me Matt."

 

"Have you ever killed anyone?" She asked the brunette standing awkwardly in front of her.

 

"Uh, no?"

           

"Great. We'll see you at the mixer. Next!" A man with shaggy black hair and glasses strutted up to the desk.

 

 "I would be a great match for the millionaire because I am intelligent and have a strong moral code that I stick to unfailingly. I also have a successful job as a prosecuting lawyer, so I wouldn't be an economic leech unlike some of the disgusting gold diggers here today---"

 

 "That's great," she said, clearly not interested in the slightest. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

 

 "Yes."

 

 "Great. We'll see you at the mixer. Next!"

 

..........

 

 

 All told, Patti had managed to find only a small handful of possible matches for her millionaire.

 

 "Watari!" she barked.

 

 "Yes, Ms. Stanger?"

 

 "Call up Japan's branch of the Millionaire's Club. Tell the agency to send us some of the more experienced members. We have plenty of hotties, now we need actual humans with personalities we can count on."

 

Watari neglected to remind Patti that she could've just skipped the entire interview process if she had been planning on sending people from the agency anyway. Oh well. It made good TV, he supposed. Besides, the viewers never seemed to notice that the matches consisted of the same people each time, as long as they sent in a few noobs from the casting call.

 

"We have a Japanese branch?" One of the cronies asked in confusion.

 

Watari didn't respond, only continued typing on his laptop as he searched through the Millionaire's Club database, compiling a list of people he thought would make a suitable match for L. Someone around here had to actually do some matchmaking, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Patti.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might hate the formatting. Let me know if it looks awful on mobile because I haven't checked. Also, I have the first four chapters done already, so I'll try to update this every week. However, I do go to college so we'll see how that goes.


	3. And Never the Two Shall Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mental preparation before the mixer. Enter Light, stage left.

“You were always a beautiful girl Takada, but now you’ve truly blossomed.” Light smiled coolly and tipped his head to the side, and gazed sidelong at the woman sitting across from him.

 

Takada was normally a serious and levelheaded woman, but even she melted under Light Yagami’s subtly sultry gaze. She blushed, and flicked her eyes downwards in modesty.

 

Light watched as she fidgeted under his praise, unable to look at him. For a moment, his cool smile turned into something much colder and calculating. Women were far too easy to manipulate, he thought to himself. All it took was a little well-timed praise, along with the right body language. He knew only too well how to carry himself, how to watch for the tiny reactions that indicated just how completely they were under his spell. How to push closer at just the right moments, and when to back off before they became too attached. Of course, physical appearance was also a critical factor in capturing and keeping the attention of a woman—or man.

 

Light made it a point to always be in peak physical condition. He spent a lot of time and energy on personal grooming—his hair was immaculate, his skin flawless. On this particular night he was sporting a two-button charcoal grey three piece suit.

 

People rarely look good in two-button suits. You need a slim waist and a long torso, two things which he most certainly had. Light doubted Takada even noticed how astonishing it was that he managed to pull off the suit so stunningly, but he shouldn’t have expected her to. Despite her millionaire status, Takada, like most other people, had a disappointing inattention to the finely crafted details of his exquisite appearance.

 

He almost sighed in exasperation. Almost. That would be unattractive, and thus, unacceptable. These dates were growing tiring, though. Light was a longtime member of the Millionaire’s Club, and a popular one at that. The agency called him fairly regularly to request that he woo some rich heiress or another, take them on a few dates, and then let them off gently.

 

Of course, many of his ‘matches’ were horribly awkward or unattractive, which was admittedly unpleasant. Light only stomached the job because he took pride in how easily he could make someone fall for him. It was a talent, a gift. He had nothing but disdain for the millionaires he dated, who were pathetic enough to have to solicit a reality television program just for a date.

 

He was growing increasingly bored by Takada’s doe-eyed stares aimed in his direction. Luckily, he was saved from his mind-numbing boredom by the sudden ringing of his cell phone.

 

“Thank fuck.” He muttered to himself, hastily reaching for the phone in his trouser pocket.

 

“Hm? Did you say something, Light?” Takada asked him curiously.

 

"I said, uh, ‘swank duck’. I think a waiter just passed by with some. Duck, I mean. It was so…swanky that I just had to say something. Anyway I need to take this call, please excuse me.” Damn. What a clumsy parting line. He flashed her a dazzling smile to make up for it.

 

 She gave him a confused look, but seemed to accept that explanation.

         

 Light gracefully rose from his seat and made his way towards the front of the restaurant, by the hostess’ podium. He sat down on one of the benches and hurriedly answered his phone.

 

 “Watari. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

         

 “I’m calling on behalf of the Millionaire’s Club. Our client this time is particularly…unique. Ms. Stanger thought it wise that I supplement the pool of matches with someone of your skills and experience.”

         

 “Unique, you say?”

 

 “Exceedingly so.”

 

 Light hummed. “I suppose I could swing by. The past several clients you’ve introduced me to have been so dull, Watari. The least you could do is set me up with someone a little more interesting,” he said playfully.

 

 “I understand, Mr. Yagami. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.  Who knows? Maybe you’ll even fall in love.”

         

 Light snorted in response. “We both know that’s not why you call me, Watari.” He chided.

         

 “Of course not, Mr. Yagami. I’ll send you the details regarding the mixer.”

 

 “Alright by me. Thank you for your call, Watari.” He hung up, and finally let out the sigh he had been holding in. Time to return to his date with Kiyomi. Good lord. He attempted to school his facial features into something vaguely charming, but judging by the disturbed expression the seating hostess was giving him, he probably had ended up looking more like a psychopathic killer than anything.

         

 Whatever. Psycho was the new sexy, right?

 

………

 

 

 “There’s no need to be nervous, Lawliet-san.” Misa cooed at him.

 

 “I’m not nervous,” he replied calmly. “Why would I be nervous about a petty social gathering at which I will be aggressively pursued by attractive strangers in a desperate attempt to increase their wealth and social standing through a romantic association with me?”

 

 Misa scoffed. “You’re such a downer! I’m sure Patti found you tons of lovely boys who will want you for your body instead of your money!”

 

 “Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because honestly neither option is particularly appealing.”

 

 “Don’t you worry, L. It’s gonna be so fun! And just think, you’ll get to be on TV.”

 

 “Which brings me to my second point, thank you, Misa. It really isn’t a wise decision for me to appear on television, seeing as revealing my identity to the public will likely endanger my life. In fact, why did I actually agree to go through with this? _When_ did I? I feel as if my actions are being controlled by some unseen force, causing me to behave in illogical and uncharacteristic ways.” L looked vaguely horrified for a moment, but his reverie was interrupted by Misa, like usual.

 

 “Are you saying you are being possessed by a demon or something? How adorably gothic of you, Lawli,” she chirped.

 

 “That is one sentence I honestly thought would never be directed at me.”

         

 “Well get used to being pleasantly surprised. Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the mixer, too.”

 

 “I never said my surprise was pleasant. Intriguing, I suppose, if you look at this situation from a purely objective standpoint. Perhaps this little episode is preluding my sudden descent into insanity.”

 

 “That would be so sad, Lawliet-san! Don’t go insane,” Misa wailed at him.

 

 He was slightly surprised at her concern. “Well, I only said it would be intriguing if I were being completely objective, but subjectively it is rather frightening,” he agreed.

 

 “Don’t think about that right now. Just go out there and show them how loveable you are!”

 

 “I’m not so worried about them liking me. I am the millionaire, after all. I’m more concerned about there being anyone that actually interests me.”

 

 “But I thought you didn’t want anybody to like you for your money,” she scolded.

 

 “Indeed I don’t. But that hasn’t deterred any of the previous participants on this hellish show.”

 

 “You’ve watched the show?!” Misa practically shrieked.

 

 “…it was purely for research purposes.”

 

 At that moment, the devil herself waltzed into the room. Misa promptly evolved into Fangirl Misa. She was like a Pokémon becoming her more advanced form.

 

 “Patti Stanger! You’re even lovelier in the flesh! Your skin is like a plastic doll’s,” she gushed.

 

 L was thinking that the typical comparison was a porcelain doll, but after considering Patti’s expressionless face and meticulous paintjob, he decided that plastic _was_ probably more accurate. He couldn’t tell if Misa meant to be subtly insulting or if it was unintentional. Either way, he was impressed, because Patti didn’t seem to notice.

 

 “Lovely to meet you, Ms. Stanger.” He gave his best attempt at a polite smile.

 

 Patti immediately turned her attention to L. She scrutinized him from head to toe, her expression reminiscent of swallowing something particularly vile.

 

 “Call me Patti. Only Watari calls me by my last name and that’s because he’s, like, ancient.” Her distaste was quickly masked by her “professional face”, which mostly consisted of looking pitiably at her client as if they were the saddest and most pathetic being ever to crawl the earth. “Sooo, tonight is the mixer.” She widened her eyes meaningfully. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go in there and mingle with as many people as you can, then when I deem that you’ve spent enough time looking for your soulmate, you get to choose three people for mini-dates. After the mini dates, you choose just one person for the master-date.”

 

 “I understand.” L replied.

 

 “Now, I know you’re pretty reclusive and emotionally unavailable, but I want you to try as hard as you can to break out of your shell. Like a little baby chick, hatching for the first time.” Her smile was positively sardonic.

 

 “The first time? At what point does any chick hatch more than—”

 

 “I wasn’t finished, okay?” Patti drawled in her best judgmental valley-girl tone. “Don’t interrupt. If you do that with your matches, you’ll be forever alone. Be a _gentleman_.”

 

 “Of course, my apologies.” He said hurriedly.

 

 “Anyway. I’m going to go out there and introduce you. When you hear cheering, you can walk out and join the mixer.” On that note, Patti stalked out of the room, glad that she was done with the tedious explanations. The fun part was about to begin. Time to marvel at her serious matchmaking skills.

 

 L didn’t have quite as much faith in Patti’s services as she seemed to, but he supposed that confidence was key. And she certainly had a lot of that.

 

 Who was he kidding? He was completely and utterly screwed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the mixer! It's super long but I don't want to split it up. Also, I shouldn't be posting these pre-written chapters so fast, otherwise I risk getting behind. But I'm too impatient.


	4. Mixing Like Oil and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The highly anticipated (read: dreaded) mixer.

Waiting was hell. It was not in Mihael Keehl’s nature to wait for anything, or anyone for that matter. But this Patti bitch was making him wait _eons_. He hadn’t thought he could dislike the vile woman any more, but apparently it was very, very possible.

 

Critically, he surveyed the rest of the men in the room. It was a fairly mixed bunch. He admitted that they were all quite attractive, but he was confident in his ability to outshine them all. He had decided to wear the tightest leather pants he owned, and he knew for a fact that his ass looked damn good in them. He paired them with a black silk vest that showed off his slender and lightly toned arms.

 

Yep. He was dressed to kill. 

 

And it might have to come to that, if he didn’t win the master date. There were no limits to how far he would go to finish out on top. He would prove that he was a winner and that he more than anyone else deserved to get with the millionaire. Even if it required offing a few of the other matches.

 

Like that one brunet reclining by the bar. Mello eyed him carefully. He was a young man, probably only a few years older than Mello himself. He was dressed simply but sharply in a white dress shirt and skinny jeans. They were designer too, damn him. Mello could instantly tell that every tiny detail of the man’s appearance had been carefully planned, from the immaculate light brown hair to the platinum cufflinks at his wrists.

         

He would definitely need to be taken out. No question about it.

 

 _No one will stand my way, motherfucker_ , he thought viciously. _Not even smarmy princely types like you._

 

Mello scanned the room again and his gaze stopped on another man, this time for a very different reason. Damn, the guy was awkward-looking. But the way he was slouched over on the loveseat was sort of…interesting. The blonde sucked his lip into his mouth, considering.

 

After some deliberation, he sauntered over to the guy, smoothing his hair down as he went. He sunk onto the loveseat, making sure that his sprawling knees just barely brushed the other man’s legs. He swiveled to the side and stared openly.

 

“Why the fuck are you wearing goggles?”

 

That got the guy’s attention. “Why the fuck are you wearing skintight leather?”

 

Mello smirked, and draped his arm on the back of the couch. “I wear leather because it sends a clear message.”

 

“And that is?”

 

“It lets everyone know how completely bangable I am. Your goggles, on the other hand, scream neither ‘take me now’ nor ‘I’m going to fuck you hard’.” Mello had expected his vulgarity to make the other man uncomfortable, but to his surprise, he only leaned back into his arm, finally straightening out of his slouch.

 

“And which one of those options is your outfit screaming?” He smiled lazily.

 

“I’ll never tell.” _Damn if that smile wasn’t sexy,_ the blond thought to himself _._

“You don’t have to tell me. I’ll find out tonight.” He stared Mello right in the eyes, his expression deadly serious. Then a playful grin broke across his face, and he laughed.

 

The blonde chuckled darkly in response. “What’s your name?”

 

“Matt.”

 

“Mello.”

 

“Nice to meet you. And to answer your previous question, I wear the goggles because they help me with work.”

 

“And what work would require tinted goggles?”

 

“Hacker. It prevents my eyes from getting tired after staring at bright screens all day, and all night, sometimes.” Matt relaxed deeper into the loveseat, and action which pressed his back up against the blond’s arm. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and flashed Mello a smug smile.

 

“You might not want to be telling me that. I work for law enforcement.” Mello gazed sharply at the hacker.

 

His nonchalant shrug showed that he clearly wasn’t intimidated. “Sometimes the law isn’t justified. And even when it is, sometimes the best way to uphold it is to break the law. Just look at the CIA or NSA. The staff professional hackers. They violate their own rules. That’s just how the world is. You have to decide on your own ethical code in order to get things done.”

 

“So you think that the ends always justify the means?”

 

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

 

“Absolutely. For example, I’m more than willing to assassinate that Prince Charming asshole by the bar if he gets in my way.”

         

Matt peered over at the aforementioned asshole, then whistled. “Wow. Talk about attractive.”

 

Mello only rolled his eyes. “I would, but it’s rude to talk only about yourself.”

 

“Well you could talk about me as well. Or am I not ‘completely bangable?’” he said, parroting Mello’s earlier words.

 

“Are you fishing for compliments, Matt?” Mello drawled, tossing his hair in what he hoped was an attractive manner.

 

“Nah. I’m just messing with you. So why are you here anyway? I mean, what got you into this whole thing?” he asked. He gestured at the rest of the mixer. The millionaire had yet to arrive, but from what Matt knew, Patti would come out first to introduce him. Then it would be social Darwinism in action. Forget the Galapagos, natural selection could probably be best studied on high pressure dating shows.

 

“I’m here because I want to find true love.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Really, how could you tell?” He rolled his eyes, “I’m not too concerned with love, or even dating really. I’m more the type of person who finds something they want and then is willing to do anything to get it. In this case, I happen to know who the millionaire is, and he’s someone I’ve admired for a long time.”

 

“Admired him, eh? And now you’re going to kill Mr. Douchey over there in order to get this guy? What happened to not being concerned about love?”

 

“I don’t admire him in the way you think. Professionally, he has been someone that I have aspired to emulate. And I figured that this show would be the fastest and most emotionally impactful way to get him to notice my talents.”

 

“So you’re basically just manipulating him into liking you so that you can gain prestige in your job?” Matt was getting uncomfortable with the turn the conversation was taking.

 

“You said so yourself that the ends always justify the means. This dating show is the perfect means to achieve my ends.”

 

“So then what was the purpose in talking to me?” the brunette was quickly starting to feel like Mello was maybe a bit too slippery for his taste. “How does flirting with the weird goggles guy help you achieve your ends?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

 

Mello actually looked thoughtful for a moment while he considered what Matt had said. He was totally right. It made no sense to be flirting with him. If the millionaire had come out at that moment, sitting on the couch with Matt in such an intimate way would definitely eliminate him from serious consideration. Tactically, it was indeed very bad planning to be attaching himself to the hacker.

 

“I don’t know, actually. I just saw you across the room, and something about you interested me. I know it’s a horrible idea. Actually, talking to you now decreases my odds of being successful with the millionaire. But I wanted to anyway, I suppose.”

 

The other only grunted and slouched back over his knees. “Well I suppose I can accept that answer.”

 

Patti interrupted their conversation with a loud greeting.

 

“Heeeey you guys!” It was the most enthusiasm any of them had seen from her.

“You’re all looking super hot, great job guys,” she smiled proudly at them. She scanned the crowd, and her expression darkened dramatically when she saw Mello.

 

He waggled his fingers at her and grinned. He considered blowing her a kiss too, but he decided it was best not to overdo it. Viewers on TV could still interpret his wave as an act of friendliness, rather than the confrontation it actually was.

 

Patti glared pointedly at his leather pants and unsubtly mouthed, ‘ _Bimbo_ ’. She continued her little speech, “Our millionaire today is a world famous detectiveeee. He is super shy, so you all need to do your best to help him feel comfortable. I will not be revealing his name because an anonymous party has threatened to sue the network if they air it. So we’ll just be calling him ‘L’.” Her smile was unfailing.

 

She didn’t need to tell them how the dating process would work, as most of them already knew from participating in previous episodes. “So everyone, let’s give a warm welcome to L, our millionaireeeeee!” she actually looked slightly excited at the prospect. Matchmaking was her passion, and nothing made her feel more accomplished than watching her hard work pay off.

 

As the matches started cheering like obnoxious third graders, Patti sashayed off to a corner to witness the mixer unfold. _Get your popcorn, ladies and gentlemen_ , she thought. _Americans are gonna eat this gay shit right up like candy._     

 

…

 

It was rare that Light felt both impressed and repulsed. Patti had that effect on most people, it seemed. He had never actually seen her in person before, and was rather startled by her taste in clothing and makeup. You would think that she would at least manage to paint her face in some semblance of a human visage considering the wealth he suspected she was in possession of. He was impressed with his own ability to restrain horror from showing on his face.

         

At the same time, it was also a rare thing indeed to see someone who could command a room’s attention so easily, and strike fear into the hearts of grown men with only a few moments of exposure to her rather piercing Californian accent. He made a mental note not to underestimate her.

         

When he saw her silent confrontation with the blond bimbo over on the loveseat, his estimation of her rose another few notches. Someone needed to scold that classless tart who made a mockery of this damn show. Light had fully intended to do it himself, but ultimately decided that showing any animosity towards a man in skimpy leather might cause onlookers to think that he actually felt threatened by him. Which absolutely was not the case. He was just disgusted by his obvious moral depravity.

 

Light’s internal monologue was cut short by the abrupt and rather forced cheering of all the men in the room, prompted by the millionaire’s arrival.

 

Damn. He had been too busy silently judging everyone to notice the man’s entrance. He cursed his lapse in attention. Although it wouldn’t really matter.

 

His plan all along had been to lounge attractively by the bar until the millionaire, L, became inevitably bored by the slovenly humans fawning over him, and in a desperate attempt to escape the endlessly pathetic attempts at wooing, would make his way to the bar for a stiff drink where he would instantly become entranced by the godlike creature poised on the barstool next to him.

 

Light was (obviously) the godlike creature in his plan, which was completely foolproof. All he had to do was sit there and be suitably devastating, which was of course extremely easy for someone as beautiful as he was.

 

Only after carefully reviewing his plan and finding it flawless did Light decide to covertly observe the millionaire.

 

L was currently surrounded by young men, exactly as Light had predicted. He couldn’t get a clear view of him because of the pathetic hooligans flanking him on all sides. He noted with smug satisfaction that the blond man from earlier was one of the members of the group surrounding L. Apparently his tactic was to engage the millionaire as early as possible, and hopefully leave a good impression that would last for the duration of the mixer.

 

What a novice, Light thought to himself. He sighed contentedly, and sipped his drink daintily. Now all he had to do was wait.

 

He didn’t have to wait long. After only a few minutes, L detached himself from the group, clearly looking to seek refuge from the gold diggers around him. Light averted his eyes, trying to appear disinterested. Mentally he cackled maniacally. Everything was going according to plan. L was heading right towards him…

 

…only not. Light stared in abject horror as the man shuffled not towards the bar, but to the buffet table, where he immediately began piling all manner of sweets onto a cheap plastic plate.

 

 _Goddamnit! Well played, L_ , Light thought to himself. _You win this round_.

 

Never one to be deterred, Light decided he would need to change his tactic. He tried to plaster what he thought was a charming smile onto his face, but secretly he was pissed at being wrong.

 

He rose from his barstool and glided towards the buffet table.

 

“I see you like sweets.” He said softly, from behind the black haired man, _Shut up, Light_ , he scolded himself. What an uncreative opening line.

 

L didn’t seem to notice. He turned slightly and glanced at Light over his shoulder. “Very perceptive of you. Yes, I would say that I enjoy sweets a great deal more than the average person. Do you like sweet things?”

 

“No.” Light answered honestly.

 

“So you’re standing by the dessert table, which is laden with nothing but sweets, because you don’t like sweet things?” L turned around fully to face the young man behind him.

 

Light quickly tried to decide how to answer. Would it be best to tell the truth, or continue to feign disinterest? From what he knew of L, he was a highly successful detective, so he had to be at least moderately perceptive. He decided that blunt honestly would probably work best to his advantage.

 

“No. I’m standing here, by this table full of things that I would never eat, because I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Why is it that you wanted to talk to me?” L asked mildly.

 

“Because I wanted to see if you would interest me.” Another honest answer.

 

“And what do you think so far?”

 

“I haven’t decided yet.” In truth, he really hadn’t. L was hard to get a good read on. He was wearing rather tasteful clothes, Light noted appreciatively, but he looked uncomfortable in them. His white button down and black jacket hung limply off his shoulders, despite the fact that they had obviously been tailored. His posture was decidedly poor; he had a dramatic slouch and constantly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

 

The detective certainly wasn’t conventionally attractive either. Up until that point, Light had only ever been called in for female millionaires. They all put a great deal of effort into their appearances---between hair, makeup, and wardrobe---with varying degrees of success.

 

Conversely, this man had obviously given little to no thought to his external appearance. His thick black hair was wildly messy, and he had made no noticeable attempt to conceal the obvious bags under his eyes.

 

Light couldn’t help but notice his long and slim limbs though, or the pleasingly sharp angles of his face. His nose was a great deal larger than was the norm for Japanese men, causing Light to think that one of his parents was of western descent.

 

“You’re not full Japanese, are you?”

 

“No. I am from England, actually. I was born and raised there.” He replied, delicately spooning a piece of melon off his plate. He held the spoon as if it were likely to infect him with a life-threatening disease, pinched lightly between thumb and forefinger.

 

“Really? Your Japanese is perfect. I never would have known.” Light was genuinely surprised.

 

“Yes, I speak a number of languages fluently. It is very useful in my work.”

 

“I see. Would you like to sit down?” Light asked, gesturing towards a nearby sofa.

 

L appeared mildly shocked at the question. “I suppose so. I don’t like to sit though. It decreases my higher thinking skills.”

 

“Well in that case we shouldn’t sit. You’ll need all your higher thinking skills if you want to keep up with me.” Light said with a smirk.

 

“Oh? I have barely had to use even my lower thinking skills for this conversation so far.”

 

“Are you saying I’m dull?”

 

“That was one of my implications, yes.”

 

Light was growing increasingly offended. “I’ve never been called dull in my life.”

 

“Well there is a first time for everything. Maybe no one has ever told you because they could see how obviously fragile your ego is.”

 

“My ego is not fragile. I am confident in my appearance, intelligence, and social skills.” Light replied as calmly as he could manage.

 

“Ah. So you’re not only dull, but conceited as well?” the millionaire inquired placidly.

 

“You’re one to talk. Your superiority complex is so obvious that it’s painful to even talk to you.”

 

“It isn’t a complex.” L reasoned. “It’s a quantitative fact that I am superior to most other people in a variety of ways.”

 

What kind of person says that? Light thought the same thing about himself all the time, but he knew it simply wasn’t an acceptable thing to say out loud.

 

“Ah, it all makes sense now.” He realized.

 

“What do you mean?” L asked.

 

“You’re here not because you can’t find someone who wants to date you, but because you can’t find anyone you think is good enough to be worth the effort.”

 

L was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes, I do suppose that’s true. Initially I didn’t want to partake in this television show, but for some reason my secretary convinced me it would be a good idea.”

 

“I admit. Especially when I saw your appearance, I thought you would be just another socially awkward millionaire who couldn’t get even the most desperate of gold diggers to give them the time of day. But I think I’ve got you all figured out.”

 

“That’s…rather honest of you.” L managed.

 

“If you would prefer me to be dishonest, I can do that just as easily.”

 

“No, I enjoy your bluntness. You’re very unafraid to offend me.”

 

“The same is true of you.” Light replied evenly, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Yes, well I have nothing to lose by offending you.” L waved his hand dismissively in Light’s direction.

 

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. I think that you’d regret scaring me off.”

 

“Do you mean to imply that the loss of your company would be an inherently unfortunate occurrence, or was that a threat to my person?” L asked drily.

 

“Hmm.” Light pretending to think for a moment. “A little bit of both. But certainly the first option.”

 

By this time, L had consumed the entire plateful of desserts, and he sucked on the tip of his thumb thoughtfully. “In that case, I suppose it’s in the best interest of my safety that we stay in touch.”

 

“So it would seem.” Light smirked. “My name is Yagami Light, since you never asked.”

 

“Well.” L said, and he looked Light unblinkingly in the eyes. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Light-kun.” He turned away, breaking eye contact with the young brunet.

“But don’t think you ‘have me all figured out’ just yet.” He tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.

 

Light…wasn’t sure how he felt about that encounter. He had been strangely hostile towards L, not in excess, but certainly more than he would typically allow himself. And yet, he didn’t feel irritated by the detective, as he did with all the previous millionaires he had courted.

         

 _A bit of a paradox there_ , he thought to himself. _Normally I’m repulsed by their very existence, but outwardly I’m nothing but charming. But just now, I actually…didn’t hate talking to L, and yet I was much more offensive in my interactions with him._

Food for thought, he supposed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one. And it's not terribly humorous, so sorry for that.  
> By the way, L and Light's interactions aren't actually very fun to write. Because it's super hard to figure out how they would interact if they were being genuine with one another. In the canon, they never really freely interact, because they don't want the other to be able to figure them out.  
> So anyway it's difficult as fuck to figure out how they would talk to each other without the HUGE BAGGAGE OF LIGHT BEING A MASS MURDERER hanging over their heads.  
> Also I changed the formatting a bit because I really did hate it. I'll probably go back and fix the previous chapters too.  
> Aaaaand once again I failed to wait a week to update. You're welcome.  
> Bye, lovelies.


	5. Not a chapter (author note)

Hey guys. 

It's been like eight months, and the good news is, I'm not dead. 

The bad news is that I haven't updated this fic for eight months. 

It's gotten to the point where it's been so long that I feel increasingly embarrassed to just post a chapter out of the blue. I'm the type of person to not hand in late homework, not because I haven't done it, but because I feel so awkward handing a teacher late work. The same principle has been applying to this fic, where I'm like I CANT JUST UPDATE AFTER SO LONG. ITS SHAMEFUL. 

But I'm going to go against my nature, because I don't want to start any other fics until this one is done. 

That being said, I'd like to apologize to my readers. College really whooped my ass and to be honest any spare time I had went to doing things other than writing.

Fortunately, I have finals next week, so I will have loads of free time on my hands quite soon. Ideally, I'd like to post a chapter this weekend, and it'll be long and funny and fabulous in order to make up for this horrible hiatus. 

I have some good ideas for the rest of the story, and I'll also go through all the existing chapters and improve them. 

If you're a subscriber reading this, IM INCREDIBLY SORRY I LOVE YOUR FACE. If you're a new reader, count yourself lucky you missed out on this horrible dry spell and are only joining us now. 

Anyway. I have an essay, two lab reports, and online homework all due tonight at midnight and I haven't done any of it. 

Thank you for reading, I'll be back real soon, folks. Smooches.


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